


Your Graffiti, My Heart

by DivineInspiration, shelikesthesound



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineInspiration/pseuds/DivineInspiration, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelikesthesound/pseuds/shelikesthesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reluctant socialite Isabella gets a wake-up call and discovers another side of life and of herself. She meets Edward who is full of charm and tattoos, but is he who she thinks he is? Colab with shelikesthesound for Dinx's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Public Image

**Author's Note:**

> DI: *clears throat* Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Diiiiiiinx, Hap-
> 
> slts: Yo, cats in heat sound better than you. Stop it!
> 
> DI: But it's Dinx's birthday!
> 
> slts: Yeah, well, I'm sure she'd like to keep her hearing more.
> 
> DI: *pouts* Can we make her a cake?
> 
> slts: And send it to her in an email?
> 
> DI: Minor detail.
> 
> slts: Licking the screen would probably taste like ass. Besides, you can't eat a picture.
> 
> DI: Party pooper. Can we send her a card?
> 
> slts: I though you sent one already?
> 
> DI: So?
> 
> slts: Sending two cards looks weird. Plus, it wouldn't make it there on time, which would be double weird.
> 
> DI: Can we buy her a present?
> 
> slts: Like what?
> 
> DI: A puppy!
> 
> slts: *eye roll* I'm sure she already has a dog.
> 
> DI: A pony!
> 
> slts: She's not twelve! Something else.
> 
> DI: A blender?
> 
> slts: Really, a blender? Where do you come up with this stuff? *eyes DI with worry*
> 
> DI: Then you come up with something!
> 
> slts: How about we post the story we wrote for her? You know, that thing we sent back and forth for a month?
> 
> DI: Oh. Um…yeah. Good idea actually. And since I made the banner full of pretty-looking Edward, you get to wrap our present! *snickers*
> 
> slts: *head desk* And how do you propose we do that, huh? Magically insert our hands and pull out some virtual wrapping paper out of our asses? You can't wrap things in cyberspace!
> 
> slts & DI: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DINX!
> 
> slts: *whispers* We almost forgot something important.
> 
> DI: What? The ribbon?
> 
> slts: No.
> 
> DI: Then what? I already sung the song, but I can do it again if y-
> 
> slts: Must I do everything myself? Honestly! Thank you to JointGifts, nowforruin, MizzDee, and sherriola for beta'ing and pre-reading.
> 
> DI: We love you! And we love Dinx! And we love Can'tgetitinward! And we lo-
> 
> slts: We get it! You love everyone. Big freaking deal. Just be quiet and let Dinx enjoy her present. Sheesh.
> 
> DI: Okay. *sigh*
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer That Keeps Us from Getting Sued: We are not the ones who created the phenomenon known as Twilight. Stephanie Meyer is the one who holds the rights to it. We just threatened-ahem-I mean convinced the characters to aide us with this story. They will be given back once the tale ends. Okay, fine, we're not giving Edward back. You'll have to catch us first.

It was harsh to suddenly realize that what I had thought was perfect for twenty-five years was actually not perfect at all. It didn't help that this realization came in the middle of Barneys on Madison Avenue. The imperfection was my life, and all it took for the epiphany to appear was a mirror of my own childhood.

I was looking for the perfect, lavender colored dress for my parents' dinner party the following night. My mother had told me lavender would go well with her color scheme. The sound of a raised voice made me look up, and I saw a woman speaking sternly to a teenage girl. I looked away quickly, embarrassed on their behalf. Who argued in public? And in Barneys of all places.

I couldn't help but overhear the words spoken, though. The girl wanted a different dress than the woman – probably her mother – wanted her to get. In a flash I remembered. That had been me ten years ago. My mother had taken me shopping for school dresses, and I had asked for a pair of jeans, the only thing I could remember ever asking for. My mother had been outraged, as if I'd asked for a tattoo or a motorcycle.

I had let it go then and gotten the dresses my mother wanted me to get. But now I wondered. Would it have been so bad if she had let me have a pair of jeans? Heaven knew that being the only child of Charles and Renee Swan, CEO and queen bee in New York's higher society, respectively, offered me a very comfortable life. Gave me advantages. Material possessions. Well-mannered friends. No difficult decisions to make. No decisions to make at all. No free will. No passion…

The woman and the girl left without the dress the girl wanted. I sighed and continued looking for lavender dresses. They were all nice, and there were several of them that would be perfect, but my heart wasn't in it. In the end I just picked a random one.

I pondered my small epiphany for the rest of the day as well as the following day. I didn't know what had been so significant about the mother and daughter arguing about dresses – or my old memory about the elusive jeans. But the fact was that it had made me question myself and the choices I hadn't made in my life. I was so distracted that one of my professors pulled me aside after class and asked if I was alright.

When I got dressed for the dinner party, my thoughts were on everything except what I was doing. When I looked at myself in the mirror afterward, I was not wearing lavender like my mother had told me to. The dress I had put on was dark purple, and I didn't know where I had gotten it from. My mother preferred me to wear pastel colors.

I looked at my reflection again and smiled. It wasn't a pair of jeans, but it would do. By wearing it, I would be doing something I had never done before – disappointing my mother. But by changing to the lavender dress, I would be doing something I had been doing my whole life – disappointing myself. It was startling to realize that I was a puppet in my parents' little show, offering matinees at the country club, at charity events, and at a million dinner parties. A lifeless puppet, moving only when someone pulled the strings, and showing no sign of life behind the painted eyes and the ever-smiling mouth.

"I said lavender, Isabella," were my mother's first words when she saw me. She was wearing white, as she had taken to lately, because she was certain it made her look younger. Instead, it just made her look pale and almost ill.

"I felt like wearing dark purple," I replied in a tone that felt new and very strange in my throat. It held a note of rebellion.

"You felt like…! Well, I never!" she sputtered before fixing her face back into a welcoming smile as new guests arrived.

I didn't pay much attention to the people around me that night. My childhood home was filled to the brim with the usual people, but they had never seemed as boring as tonight. My mother and her friends gossiped about people at the country club. The people my age either flirted or tried to outdo each other with accounts of what they had accomplished or how much money they made. My father and his friends talked about the stock market, golf handicaps, and which horse to bet on in the next race. I had listened to all of it my entire life, but it had never made me feel sick before.

As the days passed, I became more and more wrapped up in my own thoughts. My mother left me alone, thankfully, sure that I just needed a few days to "cool off." I was not cooling off, though. I analyzed myself over and over, always drawing the same conclusion. Being someone's puppet was not how I wanted to continue living my life. But apart from wearing a different color dress than the one my mother had told me to wear, I had run out of ideas on how to start changing things – how to go about finding out who I was when my every move was not orchestrated by my parents.

The answer came after classes the following Friday. My friends in law school – children of my parents' friends who, like me, were being molded into taking over family businesses - knew about my little controversy with my mother. They probably didn't know the details, but gossip traveled fast, and no one was going to stick their nose in something that might be messy. It wasn't how things worked in the social circles I usually moved in.

That led to me finding myself among classmates I had hardly ever spoken to for a small group project. They were students on scholarships or who worked their way through school. People I had never interacted with because I wasn't supposed to – people who were a lot more interesting than my so-called friends.

"Chica, you look sad," a small girl named Alice said to me after we had finished our project and were gathering up our things to leave. She was bright, which she had demonstrated again and again while we had worked together. She also had a bubbly personality, short, spiky hair, and wore a million different colors, none of them pastel. I decided that I liked her. "It's Friday. No one should be sad on Fridays."

I smiled. Her logic probably fit herself, but Friday for me meant the start of a weekend filled with social interactions with people I had recently discovered were incredibly boring.

"I just have a lot on my mind," I replied and put my laptop in my bag.

"Wanna go grab a cup of coffee?" she asked, placing a white, knitted hat on top of her spiky hair. "I'm an awful listener because I talk too much, but I might be able to get your mind off whatever is bothering you for a bit. Plus, who doesn't crave java constantly?"

Caught off guard by her amusing candor, I found myself agreeing.

Fifteen minutes later Alice and I were seated across from each other at a little café. She moaned loudly when she took the first sip of her coffee. Her eyes were closed and there was a blissful expression on her face. She was completely oblivious to the people who had heard her and were now staring. I fought my embarrassment.

"Coffee is one of the few reasons I might believe in God," she confessed when she opened her eyes again. "It would have taken divine powers to create coffee beans. I'm not sure if God would be male or female, though. Have you ever thought about it?"

"No," I admitted truthfully. Nothing had ever made me question God's sex before, for which I was grateful because it made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

"On the one hand there is PMS and giving birth which makes me think that God is a man. But on the other hand there is…well, men. Just look at them. Save for a few exceptions, they're dumber than snot. Surely a woman created those suckers, thus making us the stronger sex. Am I right?"

"I suppose you do have a point," I allowed, not used to conversation topics as strange as this one. Though, it was certainly more interesting than discussing the weather, the latest gossip, or fashion. Alice was full of interesting, if not even a little strange, conversation topics. She spoke like she was about to be late for something and had to cram everything into the remaining seconds left to her.

"I'm going to a tattoo party tonight. Wanna come along?" she asked after finishing venting about how her old roommate had burned all her Jamie Oliver cooking books because she had thought they contained messages from the devil.

I tried to catch up. "Um…a tattoo party?"

She nodded. "This guy I know is having it. He's one of God's exceptions and a completely divine dreamboat. I just have to figure out how to make him notice me."

I had a hard time comprehending how anyone could fail to notice Alice. She was small, but her personality was bigger than a house, and the way she dressed made her very noticeable.

"Anyway, it's all very laid back," she continued. "Just a bunch of people having a good time."

"And the tattoo part?" I asked with enough curiosity to move past being polite – at least polite according to my mother's standards.

"Just a tattoo artist coming to do his thing and showing off his work in the hope that people will show up where he works to get something done. I had one done a couple of months ago at a party. The artist was this chick who was covered in tattoos and piercings. Totally awesome and she did brilliant work. See?" She pulled down the front of her shirt and revealed a small, but elaborate clock above her right breast. "Clock's ticking for everyone, including my boobs."

I didn't know what to say. "It's beautiful," I managed. And it was.

Alice sent me a satisfied smile and pulled her shirt back up, once again oblivious to people's stares. "So will you come? I promise you'll have a great time, meet some cool people, and whatever it is that's on your mind and that you haven't thought about since entering this café, won't make an appearance tonight, either."

I laughed. There was no way I could refuse an offer like that. The fact that my mother would hate the idea made it even better. "Thanks, Alice. I'd love to come."

After admitting that the majority of my closet content was made up of pastel dresses and pant suits, Alice declared it necessary to take me shopping. We ventured into stores and boutiques I had never even known existed. Alice made me laugh at her bouts of word vomit and different views of everything while she picked out clothes she thought would be perfect for the party. I could have just nodded like I always did with my mother, but I decided to argue. Not because I didn't like the clothes Alice found for me, but because I could. And because I decided never to let anyone dictate what I wore again. Instead I compromised.

When I got home, I showered and got dressed in a new short jean skirt, a very revealing red top, and brown, knee high boots. I curled my hair a little and let out the oppressed woman inside of me as I applied my make-up. If I had owned a bright red lipstick, I would have put it on, but since red

was not pastel, I did not own one. I had to make do with clear lip gloss. Looking at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. The woman who looked back at me was not someone who favored pastels. The jean skirt was the jeans I hadn't been allowed to get ten years ago. The rest was just icing on the rebellion cake.

A little over an hour later, a cab dropped off Alice and me outside a nondescript townhouse where her divine dreamboat lived. It wasn't a part of the city I was familiar with, but Alice seemed to know where she was going. She twirled around on the sidewalk as we walked up to the door. Her short plaid skirt flared slightly, and she looked so free and so happy that I felt jealousy flare up inside of me for a second.

Music could be heard from inside, and I grew slightly nervous as I had no idea what to expect of this party. It was bound to be very different from anything I was used to. Alice walked right in like she owned the place, nodding her head to the beat of the music. I followed her, squaring my shoulders and reminding myself that I was supposed to be rebelling.

Music and laughter floated around us as soon as we came inside, and I looked around with wide eyes, taking it all in as I knew perfectly well that this rebellion thing was going to be difficult to do alone, and I couldn't count on Alice to drag me out all the time. So I soaked it all up while I could.

Alice grabbed my hand and dragged me through a sea of people, throwing out hellos as she went. She introduced me to some of her friends – Rose, a tall, scary blonde with tattooed thorn branches crawling up her neck and down her arms, and who laughed in my face when I reached out my hand to shake hers. Laurent, seemingly mute, but he had the most fascinating dreadlocks. Mike, a very loud, blond man with more facial piercings than I could ever have imagined was possible, and who flirted with both Alice and me.

I was also introduced to the divine dreamboat and host of the party, who went by the name of Jasper. He was very nice and welcomed me as if he was happy I was there. Alice played it cool, but followed him with her eyes when left us to say hello to some new arrivals.

"How is it even possible to be that gorgeous?" she said with a sigh when someone blocked him from her view. She turned to me as if expecting an answer, but laughed at my bewildered look. "I'll find us something to drink. See if you can find somewhere we can sit down."

She skipped off, leaving me to unsuccessfully find us some seats. People were sitting in the windows, on top of each other, and on the floor. I walked through the rooms anyway, dutifully looking for the seats Alice had asked for. That was when I saw him. I heard myself gasp and quickly looked around, conscious that anyone could have heard me and question my reason. No one even glanced in my direction, though.

I was granted the opportunity to study him as his face was turned half away from me. He was bent over someone sitting on a coffee table, and I realized that he was the tattoo artist Alice had told me would be here, thus making the party a tattoo party. His hair was a mess of bronze locks, and his profile showed nothing but sheer beauty. There was no other word for it. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was stretched tightly across his chest, ripped with well-defined muscles. His left arm, the only one I could see clearly, was almost covered in tattoos, an unrecognizable clutter of patterns and text that I surprisingly longed to take a closer look at. His jeans were dark, ripped in places, with even darker splotches of what was probably ink.

He suddenly stood up fully, stretched, which did wonders for my view, and turned his head to look in my direction as if he could feel my gaze. I ducked my head and felt my cheeks heat up. How embarrassing to be caught staring at the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. I slowly looked back up, only to find him still looking at me with a pair of what were probably the greenest eyes in the entire world. Even across the room, they reminded me of the emeralds on the necklace my parents gave me when I graduated college. My favorite necklace. He sent me a dazzling, crooked smile, and my cheeks heated even more.

We played the looking-blushing-flirting game for a couple of hours. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, even when I was talking to Alice and meeting all her highly interesting friends, and he'd often catch me looking. Each time I was rewarded with a crooked smile that made me blush. Alice kept fetching us drinks from somewhere, and between the alcohol, the blushing, and the hot and bothered state the green-eyed tattoo artist had me succumbing to, I was pretty flushed. At one point Jasper, who Alice seemed to have on a leash by now, noticed me staring.

"Are you looking to get some work done?" he asked me, motioning toward the coffee table on the other side of the room where a girl was propped up with her head in another girl's lap while she had her ankle tattooed. A small crowd had gathered to watch. "Edward is really good, one of the best I've seen. He did this amazing one with some Springsteen lyrics on my back."

Jasper probably didn't notice my lack of reply as he was busy showing his tattoo to Alice, who nearly crawled up under his shirt in her eagerness to see his skin. But the thought festered in my mind. Did I want a tattoo? I had never thought about it before. Except for Alice, I didn't know any girls who had tattoos. And the only man I knew with a tattoo was my grandfather, who had served in the Navy when he was younger and commemorated it with an anchor on his forearm. My grandmother hated it.

Even if I did decide that having something inked onto my body permanently was what I wanted, what could I possibly stand to look at for the rest of my life? And where on my body? If I was being honest, the only reason I was even thinking about a tattoo was the artist. There was nothing I could possible want tattooed anywhere on me. What did Jasper say? Springsteen lyrics?

"Why do you have Springsteen lyrics on your body?" I blurted, interrupting Alice's inspection of his skin.

Jasper smiled and turned his back to me so I could see the tattoo. It said "I've been working real hard, trying to get my hands clean." The letters were perfectly engraved onto his skin, and it was easy to see that there was skill behind. I had never thought about it before, but it really was a form of art.

"The way I see it, you don't get something inked onto your body unless it means something," Jasper said and shrugged. "I've always loved Springsteen, and I liked the idea of a permanent reminder of how hard I've worked to kick some nasty habits in the past. If I remember my hard work, I won't throw it all away for a quick thrill."

I nodded thoughtfully. It made a lot of sense. I could use a few permanent reminders myself. Like maybe a tattoo of a pair of jeans reminding me to walk my own road in life instead of the one my GPS parents told me to take. My eyes drifted toward the inked piece of heaven I now knew was called Edward, and as if he could feel my gaze on him, he looked up after two seconds. Cue crooked smile and blush.

I wanted to roll my eyes at myself. I was usually very good with people – it was something my mother had taught me very early. So there was no logical reason why I didn't just go over and said hello to a person who managed to capture my attention so thoroughly. God knew that it didn't happen often.

"Carpe diem," I muttered to myself. How was that for a reminder? I had taken the first step away from Alice and Jasper who were in their own little world, when I froze. That was it. My reminder. Before the thought festered in my mind fully, I strode across the floor and didn't stop until I stood right in front of Edward the Sexy Tattoo Artist…who looked even sexier up close. And had an eyebrow piercing that I found myself strangely attracted to. He turned away from the guy he was talking to and looked at me.

"And we finally meet," he said with a grin. "Been looking forward to that all night."

"No one stopped you from coming over to say hello," I pointed out, unable to hold back my smile.

"I was busy. What's your excuse?"

"I was busy too."

"Is that so? Busy doing what, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked, smirking and crossing his arms over his chest. "Because I gotta say, every time I looked, you did not look that busy."

"I guess you looked at the wrong times then," I told him, wondering where all this sass came from. Maybe it was the alcohol. Alice had poured delicious, green drinks for me all night, and I had no idea what was in them.

"I guess I did," he allowed with a grin. "I'm Edward."

"I know," I said, smiling. "Jasper sung your praises earlier. I'm Isabella."

"You don't look like an Isabella," he told me, studying me with the hint of a smile on his lips. "You look more like a Bella."

I laughed. "Is that so?"

"That is so," he said, nodding.

I bit my lip and smiled. No one had ever called me Bella before except my alcoholic uncle once. My father had chewed him out for calling me something that sounded like the name of a dog. But the way it rolled off Edward's tongue did dangerous and delicious things to my body. He could call me anything he wanted.

"So what does a girl have to do to get a tattoo around here?" I asked calmly, using acting skills I didn't know I possessed. I did not like needles of any kind, but my mind was made up.

His eyebrows rose. "You want a tat?"

I nodded.

He leaned back against the wall. "Would this be your first?"

"Yes." No reason to elaborate, he was probably already judging me.

"I'm not going to insult you by asking you if you're sure," he said, surprising me. "Do you know what you want? I've got some pictures you could look at."

"I know what I want," I replied, not bothering to hide my smirk.

Edward winked and grinned. "Well then. Do share with the class."

"Alis aquilae. In gothic letters," I said. "It's Latin. I can write it down if y-"

"On an eagle's wings," he interrupted. "Book of Isaiah. I don't remember the chapter, but it says something about those who wait shall find their strength renewed, mount up on wings like eagles, run without growing weary, and walk without growing faint. Am I right?"

I nodded dumbfounded. He knew Latin and the Bible?

He smirked, no doubt guessing my thoughts, and lifted up his shirt while he turned around. What was with the males in this place, showing skin left and right? I appreciated the view, of course – and what a view it was. I was so transfixed by the beauty of his pale skin that it took me a moment to realize that I needed to move my gaze north. "Freedom lies in being bold" was written in cursive letters between his shoulder blades. I recognized it as Robert Frost, which did nothing to make me less curious.

"I try to live by those words, so I understand why you'd want something similar," he explained and unfortunately pulled his shirt back down. "I just prefer Frost to the Bible.

"So where am I inking you, Bella?" he asked, the shortened version once again rolling deliciously off his tongue.

I hadn't thought that far. In my determination to get my own mark on my life after having my parents orchestra almost everything I did, that small detail had slipped my mind. I was not ashamed of what I was about to have done, but I also liked the idea of it being just for me. I would have to make the change, not the tattoo. I just liked the idea of having a reminder as Jasper had said. So somewhere hidden from view – most of the time hidden from view, anyway. I felt the blush rise in my cheeks. Edward would have to see that hidden spot. Touch it. Mark it. In a way it would not just be my mark, but also his since he would be doing the writing.

"Bella?" he interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes? Oh, um. I don't know. On my hip maybe?"

He laughed and held up his palms. "Don't ask me. It's your decision. I just do what you tell me."

I had a long list of things I'd like to tell him to do and none of them involved ink. At least not ink on my body, but on his. I cleared my throat. "On the side of my hip. Definitely."

Sexy, flirty Edward turned professional in the blink of an eye. It was fascinating to watch, really. He asked me questions about how exactly I wanted the tattoo, told me what he was going to do, and something about aftercare. Though, at that point I was only listening to his voice, not the actual words. I could Google it tomorrow. He made me lie down on the coffee table while I mused about how I was not afraid of the pain. The needle and possibly my reaction to Edward's touch, yes. But not the pain. Although I probably should have asked Alice how bad it was going to be. Crying would be embarrassing.

I blushed when I pulled down my skirt to reveal my left hip. It intensified when Edward barked at someone who came over to watch like people had earlier. Apparently he no longer wanted an audience. He wiped my skin with something cool and put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Ready?" he asked, looking at me.

I nodded. "Yes." My voice sounded a little funny, but I didn't know whether to blame the man with the needle or the prospect of the needle meeting my skin.

"Okay, just relax," he told me.

Easy for him to say.

The first prick was the worst. I was sure I was going to have to call the whole thing off, but then the pain turned dull and completely manageable. And after a minute the dull pain was overshadowed by the feel of his hand against my skin. I felt a burning sensation even though he was wearing gloves. He would continuously wipe away blood, and while red stuff oozing out of me would normally have freaked me out, I was too busy being fascinated with the way the tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth to care.

Just before Edward finished, Alice came bouncing over, still with Jasper on his invisible leash.

"Oh my gosh, Isabella! You're getting a tattoo!" she squealed.

I heard Edward mutter "no shit," and I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh.

"Aw, you spelled my name wrong, though," she said, giggling as she sat down on the couch and leaned in to take a closer look. Jasper sat down next to her and started chatting with Edward while he finished up. I felt like a meal laid out on the table while the dinner guests conversed. Alice interrupted and introduced herself to Edward, telling him that she would look him up next time she wanted a tattoo done. She then proceeded to tell him about all her ideas of what she might like to get done. The girl had a lot of tattoo ideas. One included a bicycle and a sliced tomato. I don't think anyone but her got the meaning of that one.

"All right, all done," Edward announced, cutting off Alice's stream of ideas. He cleaned up the small tattoo and rubbed some ointment on it before dressing it like a wound. He laughed at my question about payment and repeated what I had tuned out earlier about aftercare.

"Use plain soap with no fragrance or dye to clean it, put some unscented lotion on it to keep it from cracking, and be careful to not bump it so it gets all messed up," he rattled off.

"And show it off, Chica!" Alice offered her input, making us all laugh.

I sat up and fixed my clothes. Alice went to get us some beers, and then disappeared with Jasper in tow. If I ever had a dog, I was going to name it Jasper. I had never met a guy who resembled a dog so much – loyal, adorable, on a leash, and occasionally drooling. Edward and I talked while he packed away his things in a bag. He was really good at making me laugh with his sarcastic comments about everyone and everything.

"Why don't we go back to your place and get to know each other a little better?" The words were mine, but I was as surprised as Edward clearly was that I had uttered them. I was still wondering how to back-track gracefully when he grabbed my hand, smiled impishly at me, and dragged me through the house to the front door. I barely even had time to wave to Alice, who grinned at me from Jasper's lap. The thoughts of back-tracking vanished from my mind the second my skin touched Edward's. Holding hands had never set my body on fire before.

I was by no means a virgin. I had diligently dated the men my parents had deemed fit for me, and I had allowed two of them into my bed. My relationship with Emmett had been fun – perhaps too much fun, as he hadn't been as career-orientated as my father would have preferred. Royce was my second serious boyfriend, but he had been a little too busy with other women. But what I had experienced with Emmett and Royce had in no way prepared me for what was in store with Edward. He awakened my body for the first time, pure and simple.

I barely had time to feel the cool night air before Edward's kisses heated me up like I was on fire. Somehow he managed to flag down a cab, and his mouth's delicious assault continued in the back seat. And I was no innocent bystander as I did my fair share of assaulting. His hands touched me like he knew my body, and the texture of his skin felt perfect under my fingertips. It wasn't until we had left the cab in front of his apartment building that I realized that the cab driver had just heard me moan. Seen me touch Edward. Seen Edward touch me. I felt dirty for all of two seconds. Then I was pulled inside where we managed to trip on the stairs. I thankfully landed on my right hip. Giggling into a delicious kiss, I swooned a little when he cradled my head in a semi-late attempt to save it from bumping into the stairs.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" he mumbled against my skin as he picked me up and practically carried me to his door. He swiftly unlocked the door, and I slid down his hard body to stand on the floor. I didn't look at the way his apartment was decorated, at his furniture, or if he was tidy or sloppy. There was an intensity about him that made my gaze stay locked on him. When he touched me, stumbling through the apartment while clothes started disappearing, everything else ceased to exist.

Edward stared at me for a moment once the last piece of clothing had left my body. I reveled in the fact that he seemed to like what he saw, and when the look in his eyes only intensified as he took in the small bandage he had placed over my tattoo, I knew that I also had a permanent reminder of him.

He was glorious. A part of me wanted to take the time to explore the ink on his body, but the dominant part of me had other plans. He closed the distance between us and put one hand on my hip and the other at the small of my back. He leaned in to kiss me, and I welcomed it. It was like we were in the eye of the storm, not as frantic as we had been before, but everything still heated and intense. He pulled my lip into his mouth with his teeth while walking us backwards toward the bed. I couldn't help but moan.

Then suddenly we tripped again, and I got pinned to the bed. In the fall his teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I let out a yelp. Edward pulled back and looked at me.

"Shit! You're bleeding. I'm sorry. Dammit. I'll go get a cloth f-"

The eye of the storm passed, and I pulled him back down when he attempted to get up. It didn't even hurt, and I could think of a lot of things I wanted more than a cloth. Mainly the gorgeous man above me. Luckily he was not only gorgeous, but also smart because he got the message and kissed me again. He tasted divine, but his lips were not enough. Pushing him back fully on the bed, I straddled him and worshipped his body with my mouth. Seemed like the only thing worthy of such an amazing body. He was hard beneath me, and his hands were deliciously adventurous. I nibbled on his throat and even bit down on his nipple, making him arch off the bed. It wasn't payback for when he nicked my lip, I just couldn't help myself. He made me stop thinking and just feel.

Just as I was getting ready to bite his other nipple, as he seemed to enjoy it, I was flipped over, quickly realizing that those who claimed that payback was a bitch were wrong. Payback was divine. And Edward had a magic tongue that was very thorough and made me omit sounds I had never even heard before, much less produced. He even made me scream when the magic tongue pushed me over the edge, leaving me boneless, stupidly happy, and wanting much more of him than just his tongue.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who was a little out of it, because he completely missed the first time he tried to enter me. I covered my giggle with a hiss, and the adorable man actually apologized. If I wasn't boneless already, I would have melted.

The second time it went much better, and my eyes rolled back into my head at the feeling of him inside me. Sweet merciful… His face rested in the crook of my neck, and he sucked the skin there while he thrust into me hard and fast. I wove my fingers into his hair and gave up trying to hold my embarrassing, loud moans in.

He slowed his pace, which was a good thing because the feeling of him…shit. I could feel him – all of him. Nothing between us, not even a condom. Oh shit! I put a hand on his shoulder, but that just made him pick up his pace again. What was a girl to do? I smacked him.

"Edward," I got out. "Condom."

He flew off the bed, looking as if he'd just seen a monster. He landed comically on his ass, and I kept my giggles in until he started rubbing it. For a moment he looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but then he smiled. The man was giving me serious whiplash by going from gorgeous to adorable in no time at all, and I didn't know which part of him I liked better.

He did know how to handle a condom, though, because it didn't take him many seconds to find one and roll it on. I giggled again when he very enthusiastically nearly jumped onto the bed and landed on top of me. He quite literally took my breath away. Again and again and again…

Every single one of my nerve endings felt him. Inside and out. I went into sensation overload when he reached down between us, never once faltering from his pace, and sped up my orgasm, catapulting me over the edge again with a loud cry. His teeth were on my nipple and I was still shaking when he came forcefully. I heard him, but I didn't understand him. I felt him, but didn't have the strength to lift my arms to hold him when he collapsed on top of me, sweaty skin meeting sweaty skin.

He had officially spoiled me for life.

Edward had more strength than me. He eventually rolled off me and put his arms around me, and before I could even start to consider whether or not I was spending the night, I drifted off to sleep feeling more content than I probably ever had.

I woke up with a headache. The bright morning light irritated my eyes when I opened them, and it took a few seconds to realize why my curtains weren't drawn like they usually were. I was not in my own home. Clutching the sheet around me, I sat up in bed, too late considering what such harsh movements might do to the other occupant of the bed. Wait. Other occupant of the bed? I turned my head sharply, wincing a little at the pain it brought to the inside of my skull. My eyes settled on a glorious specimen of a sleeping male, and my cheeks heated as memories from last night assaulted my mind. Edward was unlike anyone I had ever met, and even asleep I felt the power he had over my body.

Sweet merciful…

I suppressed the urge to moan. It wasn't that I regretted last night, not at all in fact, as I had undoubtedly had the best sex ever, but I had no idea how to deal with the morning after. What was I supposed to say? And if whatever I was supposed to say took longer than fifteen minutes, I would be late and have no time to get home to shower and change before going to my weekly brunch with my mother and grandmother. And showing up at brunch looking like this would not do at all. My courage had been used up last night, and with nothing left, there was no way I could stay and no way I could face Edward.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, I slid out of bed, stumbling a little when I stepped on one of his shoes. My clothes were strewn all over the room, and I hurriedly dressed after finding them all. I struggled a bit with my boots, but finally managed to zip them up. Once again checking to make sure that Edward was still asleep, I crept out of the room and took a deep breath when I had managed to close to the door without making any loud noises.

I took the elevator down to the main floor and quickly walked outside. The neighborhood was not familiar to me, but I would remember it fondly. At least if I could avoid making eye contact with anyone who might mistake me for a prostitute. God only knew what my hair and whatever makeup I still had on looked like. I saw nothing I recognized, so I started walking in the hope of being able to flag down a cab. I needed an address if I had to call one, and I couldn't spot any street names.

Although I decided to, I was not able to forget Edward on the cab ride home. Every thought was of how his lips felt against mine, how his hands felt against my skin, and how he made me feel things I hadn't even known existed. My rebellion had turned out very different from what I had expected, and although last night had been beyond amazing, I was undecided on whether or not that was a good thing. At least before I hadn't known what I was missing. Now I did. And a reminder of it had been tattooed onto my skin by Edward himself.


	2. Here She Comes Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DI: Oh, it's another chapter! Let's sing the birthday song again!
> 
> slts: Shhhh…people are reading.
> 
> DI: *pouts* You ruin all my fun.
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer That Keeps Us from Getting Sued: We are not the ones who created the phenomenon known as Twilight. Stephanie Meyer is the one who holds the rights to it. We just threatened-ahem-I mean convinced the characters to aide us with this story. They will be given back once the tale ends. Okay, fine, we're not giving Edward back. You'll have to catch us first.

Brightness pulled me from a deep sleep and blinded me as I opened my eyes. I stretched my arms over my head and yawned, closing my lids once again. It didn't take long for me to remember I had forgotten to close the curtains the night before.

Mmmm, last night.

I remembered with perfect clarity why I'd forgotten that particular task. At Jasper's party, I'd met the most intriguing woman ever.

-ygmh-ygmh-ygmh-ygmh-

She stood across the room, watching as I inked up a couple of losers that paid in beer and pot. Normally, I was legit and did my work out of the shop I was employed at, but doing tats at the party was a good way to drum up business. People would see what I had to offer, and then maybe they'd come into Flames and pay the usual currency for my art. The way I saw it, it was win-win.

That beauty standing against the wall—fuck—she was the culmination of every dream I had. Her hair was this dark mahogany color that hung down to the middle of her back. I could imagine holding onto it as I pounded her from behind. Eyes the color of coffee and sin were set in a heart-shaped face that was fully equipped with shell-pink pouty lips—lips that kept slipping between her perfect white teeth. A set of lips that would be soft against my own or would look amazing wrapped around my cock. She had a body to die for, all curves, large breasts, and hips perfect for holding. The girl was shorter than I usually like, but it was something I was willing to overlook. Laying her face down on a table would take care of the height problem if I wanted to fuck her from behind. I was an equal opportunity kind of guy.

Someone distracted me, pulling my attention from the girl across the room. It was nothing important, just business. I tried to sound interested, but what I really wanted to do was punch him. He had interrupted my staring, and it wasn't cool.

Then, suddenly, she was next to me. I turned to her, ignoring the guy. He wasn't serious about getting a tattoo anyway, instead wanting to waste my time. She was more gorgeous up close, and I wanted to take her right there. I didn't want to scare her off, though, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

I flirted and introduced myself. When she spoke, her voice sent a shiver up my spine. The chick had this sexy lounge singer thing going on, and it was a woman's tone—not the baby babble of the girls I usually hooked up with, which had made me want to shove my dick in their mouth just to shut them up. She said her name was Isabella, but I thought she looked more like a Bella and told her so. Bella was the perfect name for a perfect girl.

Then she asked me about tattoos, piquing my curiosity. The conversation turned, and somehow I ended up inking her hip. The words she chose to adorn her skin were perfect. It said so much about who she was, and I couldn't help but admire her. I remembered my own rebellion, and at twenty-six, I still felt it was the best decision I'd ever made. I even showed her my own tribute to rebellion, in the form of a Robert Frost quote on my back. It was a representation of everything I believed in and the motto by which I lived my life.

I caught her checking me out when I lifted my shirt, but I didn't mind. I wanted this girl, and if she found me attractive, it was only going to benefit me. I motioned for her to lie down on the table and pull her skirt down. Fuck, I'm going to have to do this with a hard on and it's not going to be comfortable. 

The tat didn't take very long, but I had to endure her friend when she came over to inspect. She said her name was Alice, but she reminded me of an elf or some woodland pixie. She had black hair that stuck up all over the place. I thought she looked like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket, but she carried herself like she was the hottest piece of ass in the place. I had to hold in a laugh, because while I thought she was better suited for a Disney cartoon, Jazz hung all over her. Not getting laid for a while must have been getting to his brain, but whatever. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

Once we were finished, we made small talk, keeping the conversation on the surface by sticking to safe topics. I got her to laugh a couple of times, and each time I was entranced by the fact that it was a real one, not those fake giggles girls do. No, Bella would throw her head back and chuckle loudly, and her body shook with it. The girl was genuine, and I was fucked. She had done, without knowing, what most girls tried their hardest to do—she had my full attention.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

We were all over each other on the cab ride home, giving the driver quite a show. I ended up tipping the guy way more than usual because I didn't want to wait for change. After we exited, we ran across the street to my building. I didn't want to remove my mouth from hers, but it was kinda necessary to open the door. Once inside, we tripped up the stairs while still semi-attached. My hands and mouth couldn't get enough of her, and when I was ready to just take her in the hallway, we reached my front door. A few seconds fumbling with the lock was all it took for us to be granted entrance to my humble abode. It wasn't much, but I wasn't worried about the clothes that might be strewn all over the place or the dishes in the sink. For the first time in years, I was about to get my cock wet by a woman that I found intriguing, and nothing was going to stop me.

Our clothes were flung around the living room, down the hallway, and tossed aside in my bedroom. When her naked form was finally revealed, I swear I heard a chorus of angels singing. She was perfect, more so than I had imagined back at the party.

I walked over to her and placed my hands on her hips, pulling her close to my own naked body. I leaned in to kiss her as she tilted her head upward. Pulling her lip into my mouth with my teeth, I started walking backwards toward the bed. Her moans of pleasure were driving me crazy, and because I was paying attention to her and not where we were going, I slipped on something, causing us to fall on the bed. She let out a yelp, and when I looked at her face, I noticed a small amount of blood on her bottom lip. Mortified, I apologized and rose to go get her a cloth. She wasn't having that; instead, she pushed me back down. The look in her eye told me that the cut wasn't a big deal, so I kissed her again.

I tried to be careful of the injury I'd caused, but it was useless. She was on fire, and despite her whimpers, she kept licking and sucking my flesh. Lying back, I decided to give her free rein of my body. God, her mouth, teeth, tongue and hands felt so good on my skin. Nobody ever paid this much attention to me—I was generally the one doing the licking, sucking, and—Oh, mother fuck—the biting. Her teeth pressed down into my left nipple, causing me to almost arch off the bed. Bella really knew what she was doing, and she played me like an instrument.

When it was my turn, I gave her the same sensual treatment. She let out the sexiest noises I'd ever heard as I twirled my tongue around her areola, down her stomach, and then to the Promised Land. The first thing I noticed as I made contact with her little pink nub was that she was the cleanest girl I'd ever tasted. There was no overly tangy taste, just a little musky flavor that was all her. Her moans and groans broke my thought, making me give my all. Not to sound conceited, but I owned that pussy. She came with a scream, locking her legs around my head and her cum dripping down my face.

I was high on my victory when I attempted to enter. I say attempted, because I missed on the first try. She hissed, I apologized, and I went for it a second time. It was a success, and I pounded into her tight hole, enjoying the sensation. I laid my head in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin to contain my whimpers of pleasure. Christ, if I didn't do something to distract myself, I was going to embarrass myself by being a two-pump chump. I slowed my pace, and she placed her hand on my shoulder. Thinking she wanted it harder or faster, I began to pick up the thrusts. However, that wasn't what she wanted. She smacked me and told me I'd forgotten to put on a condom.

Oh, holy fuck. 

I never forget the condom. Ever.

It was one rule I had made for myself when I first started fucking. There was no way I was going to catch some fucked up disease that would make my dick fall off. I was pretty partial to sticking my cock in the ladies, so I always made sure I protected it. Hell, I didn't even let it slide with—well, with my bitch of an ex. If I would have gone bareback with anyone, it would have been with that cunt, since I thought I was in love with her.

Realizing my epic mistake, I flew off the bed and landed on my ass. That shit hurt, and I knew I'd have a bruise in the morning. Bella giggled at my failed attempt to dismount the mattress, and I smiled, letting it slide. If making a jackass out of myself kept her interested in fucking me, who was I to deny her that pleasure?

I made quick work of the condom and tossed myself back onto the bed. Not the greatest idea I'd ever had, because she let out an oomph when I landed on her. I couldn't wait to get back inside of her because she felt so good wrapped around my member.

All right, I was fucking horny and impatient. Fucking sue me. 

We were joined again in no time, and the feeling was amazing. I reached down and began playing with her clit, praying to whatever deity existed that she'd come already, because I was about to lose it. Stopping had only made my situation worse, and I could feel my orgasm approaching.

I leaned down a bit, taking her nipple between my teeth and pulling on it as I circled her nub. One, two, three—it took four more passes and then she tightened around my cock like a vice, milking me of everything I had. I exploded, shaking with the force of the pleasure running through me. When I was finished, I collapsed on top of her in a sweaty heap. I was spent, fucking satisfied, and totally enthralled with this girl. I had just had the best orgasm of my life, and it was all thanks to her. We lay in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep.

-ygmh-ygmh-ygmh-ygmh-

I sighed, knowing that I had lain there long enough. It was time to get up and thank this beautiful woman for her spectacular performance by making her breakfast. I opened my eyes and turned toward her to give her a good morning kiss. However, when I looked on the other side of the bed, Bella was gone.

Bewildered, I began scanning the room and searching for clues as to where the beauty might have been. Not seeing her clothes, I decided to get up and see if maybe she was in the kitchen. That would be just my luck. The first time I ever get the inkling to make a woman breakfast in bed, she beats me to it. I shook my head in amusement and then crawled out of bed. My boxers were next to the bed, where I'd tossed them the night before, so I slipped them on and headed to the kitchen.

The room was empty when I entered, and my confusion grew tenfold. It was getting to be ridiculous—where the fuck was Bella? I ran my hand through my hair and went to check the only other room in the apartment, which was the bathroom.

Finding that one empty too, the pieces began to fall into place, and it smacked me like a Mack truck. I—Edward-isn't-there-in-the-morning-Masen—had become the victim of a fuck and run. The universe had decided to exact its revenge by making the one woman I actually wanted to be around in the morning, leave without a goodbye. In that moment, I hated Karma and wished it would show its ugly face so I could kick its ass.

Since my plans had been shot to hell, I decided to make myself something to eat. I walked into the kitchen and pulled down a box of Lucky Charms from the top of the refrigerator, opened the door and took out the orange juice, and then grabbed a glass and bowl out of the top cabinet over the sink. Once I had everything, I set them down and began to assemble my breakfast. I reached behind me, taking out a spoon from the drawer. As I took a bite of the dry marshmallow goodness, I tried to figure out where things went wrong.

The night—despite a few mishaps—had been amazing, and I was sure that Bella had agreed as well. From the way she cuddled into me as we fell asleep made me think she actually was interested in me and not just the sex. Yet she was gone without leaving a note or anything. Fucking women—every last one of them was a mystery to me, and I wasn't going to waste my morning thinking about her.

Once I finished eating, I placed my dishes in the sink and decided to check my phone. I was waiting on a call back from some pretty important people. People who could change my life and give me the chance to use my talent for music as a full time gig, letting me get out of the tattoo business. Don't get me wrong, I loved to ink people, but dealing with the desperate whores who wanted me to tat fairies on their tits or a flower on their thigh so I'd get a peek was getting old. I wasn't so hard up for pussy that I'd actually fuck one of them in the shop. That shit wasn't professional or something I wanted to entertain. The moment I started doing that, I'd never get those bitches off my dick.

My pants were hanging off the end of the couch. Damn, we were pretty wild last night. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. She was the one that left, not me. I needed to get over my hurt pride and focus. I checked my messages and noticed my mother had called. Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better, I thought. What the fuck is she calling me for? Deciding to get it over with, I pressed the send button and listened to the message.

Edward, darling, I'm calling to remind you of the gala tonight. You promised you'd come, and I think you'd have a great time. A few of your father's colleagues are going to be in attendance, and I just know you would hit it off with one of their daughters—

I hung up the phone, staring at it with disgust. Leave it to my mother to try and set me up with some debutante slut, or as I like to call them—Sluttytantes. Girls that ran in the same circle as my parents were all the same. They wanted a rich and successful husband to take care of them so they could go to their garden parties at the country club, and fuck the pool boy when the bread winner was away on a business trip. I wised up and left that fucked up world a long time ago, and I wasn't going to go back. I loved my mother, Lord knew the only reason I entertained the idea of going to one of these freak shows was because of her, but even she couldn't get me to fall into the sluttytantes clutches. I shuddered and placed my phone down on the table.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

I tugged on my shirt collar as I stood in the corner watching the festivities before me. It was the same scene as always. A bunch of pretentious assholes blathering to anyone that would listen about their important business, perfect family, how much money they had, and other things that didn't mean a thing to me. It was sad, really, to know that behind all their hot air, they were just soul-sucking leeches.

And…speaking of leeches, the biggest one I'd ever met had just walked in the door. Gianna Richards, my ex, strolled into the ballroom on the arm of her new husband. I could never be more grateful that she had showed her true colors before I was stuck with her. I can still remember the day my eyes were opened, when I realized the world I lived in was not a perfect utopia but a fucking prison.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

(Flashback—Five years ago)

I was meeting my fiancée, Gianna, for lunch. Both of us had been busy with school and family commitments, so any time left for us was nonexistent. Somehow I had coaxed her to take some time away from her obligations and see me. I was hoping that after we'd eaten, we could have a more private reunion back at my apartment. 

Lunch was filled with polite conversation centered on our classes, her mother and father, and the wedding. God, the fucking wedding. Any time I did get with her was filled with color samples, invitations, food lists, and other shit I didn't care about. I mean, Christ, it didn't matter to me what happened, as long as she said "I do" and we got to spend a couple of months screwing each other's brains out. 

By some miracle, I got her to agree to some alone time. My dick was jumping for joy as we made our way to my place. It'd been weeks since I'd gotten laid, and I was ready. A man can only jerk off for so long before he goes nuts. 

We started kissing as soon as the door closed, and I began walking back toward the bedroom. Fuck, I needed this woman. She was everything—the right pedigree, loved my parents, and was a freak behind closed doors. Gianna pushed me back onto the bed and unbuttoned my jeans. She licked her lips when my erection peeked out to say "hi," lowering her mouth to it and licking the head that was still confined in my boxers. I moaned, throwing my head back onto the mattress. 

"I can't wait to marry you. My friends are all jealous that I'm going to be a doctor's wife. Just think, we'll be invited to all the best charity balls and fundraisers when you finish your residency and become a world-class surgeon," she said as she crawled up my torso and claimed my mouth in a rough kiss. I pulled back and was stunned for a moment. 

"Babe, I've been thinking. You know that club I play at on the weekends with the guys?" I asked. 

She nodded her head. 

"Well, I think that the band has a real chance of going somewhere. I've decided that instead of becoming a doctor, I could spend more time on my music and maybe get a part time gig at a tattoo shop or something. You know I've always been pretty good at drawing and…" I said, stopping when I caught the look on her face. Gianna, the prim and proper lady, hovered over me with a face that meant one thing—my girl was pissed and I was about to lose my balls. 

She jumped up and started pacing in front of the bed, huffing every few seconds. I watched, wondering what was wrong. Gianna always told me that she loved me and only wanted me to be happy. Her behavior confused me, and I sat up. When she saw me stand up, she rounded on me and shot me an icy look. 

"Really, Edward? You're going to blow everything that we've worked so hard for just so you can play rock star. No, I won't let you do this. I indulged your little band idea because I thought once you got it out of your system and went to med school, you'd grow up and be the responsible man that is expected of you," Gianna snapped.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. Who in the fuck was this chick? The girl I knew would be happy because I was chasing my dream, not screeching at me to sell my soul to become like everyone else we knew. 

"Besides, I'd never be able to show my face in polite society again if you do this. Can you imagine what people would say?" she taunted. 

Clearly, I didn't know Gianna at all. This was not the same girl that, when were in high school, sat back with me when we were stuck at yet another gala, laughing about how superficial the people surrounding us were. No, she was just like every other girl in our social circle—a plastic doll pretending to be human that was devoid of feeling and empathy. 

"Honestly, Gianna, I couldn't give a fuck what people think, and I'm having a hard time understanding why you do. What happened to doing what made us happy? Huh?" I demanded as I stood up. 

She looked at me with pity. "Edward," she stated in a condescending tone. "It's time to grow up, baby."

My fists clenched at my sides, wanting to punch something. I couldn't believe that, after everything, I'd landed a prissy debutante. Sure, she had class, but I thought she was above the bullshit our parents tried to spoon feed us. She stood there with her hands on her hips and silently demanded my cooperation. Well, she was about to get the shock of her life. 

"Gianna, I'm not changing my mind. I don't want to be a doctor, and I only went pre-med to get my father off my back. It was just a way to get him to pay for college. I never intended to follow through."

Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. 

"Well, if that's the way you feel, the engagement's off. I will not be married to a man that has no ambition," she said in a cool tone. 

"Baby, please, let's just talk about it," I pleaded. 

Her lips curled in disgust, and she pulled her engagement ring off her finger. My heart felt like it was torn out of my chest as she threw it at me and then stomped out of the room. I could hear the door slam as I stared at the ring lying on the carpet. 

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

It didn't take as long as I expected to get the bitch out of my system. I fucked a lot of girls the first few months after our break up. I'll admit it—I was cold to those girls. They didn't deserve my wrath, but it wasn't like I could take it out on the one that warranted it. Three months after we parted ways, she met the douche she was currently married to, getting her wish and marrying a surgeon she could show off.

Gianna caught my eye and gave me a smug smile, squeezing said douche's bicep. I returned the gesture by scratching the tip of my nose with my middle finger, silently telling her to fuck off. She shot me an indignant look and turned to the people her husband was talking to. I chuckled to myself and was pleased with her reaction. I loved to get her riled up when I saw her at these functions. It made great entertainment.

I chuckled and scanned the room for my parents, feeling it was probably time to start being social. As the son of Edward Sr. and Elizabeth Masen, there were certain obligations that I couldn't escape. One of them was pretending to be a tight family unit for the plastic people. It was important to my mother, and since she had stuck by me after I refused med school, I had to make her happy. On my second pass through the room, I spotted them on the far left side chatting with a man and woman. I took a deep breath and then made my way over to them. The sooner I got the schmoozing out of the way, the sooner I could leave.

While walking toward my parents, I adjusted the tuxedo jacket and bowtie. Wearing those fucking things was pure torture, but it was the required uniform. A bonus, for my mother, was that it covered up the tattoos. I also had to take out the piercing in my eyebrow and fix my hair to finish the douchebag look. No one at the event would guess what I was covering up because, to them, I looked like a member of the club and played the part well.

When I reached my mother and father, they introduced the couple standing with them as Mr. and Mrs. Swan. I shook his hand and kissed hers, trying to figure out why they looked so familiar. I knew that I'd never met them before, but there was something about this particular couple that was bugging me.

I engaged in idle chit-chat—careful to leave out my occupation. It was a rule my father had when I attended. He wasn't going to be embarrassed by his hobo son, and I was fine with that. I was living my life the way I wanted, and I was happy. His prejudice wasn't going to bring me down.

As I continued to speak with Mr. Swan, I noticed that another person had joined us. She was dressed in the typical sluttytante get-up of expensive gown, overpriced shoes, and hair done up in an elaborate hairdo. Upon closer inspection, though, I realized her eyes were familiar. My eyes swept over her once again, and I realized it was the girl I'd been with the night before. Bella, who had invaded my thoughts since she disappeared that morning, was standing before me. I was going find out what was up with her and why she was at the gala.

My mother "introduced" me to Bella with a hopeful look in her eye. I wanted to tell her the hope wasn't necessary because the party and sex the night before had pretty much sealed my interest in Bella Swan. I lifted her hand and kissed it, jumping for joy inside because I now had her last name. I told her my own name, smiling smugly and hoping she realized who I was. The way her face reddened and her eyes widened told me that, yes, she was aware. I winked at her, hoping to charm her with my polite society skills.

I took her to the dance floor, after both her mother and mine suggested we go. Bella was stiff as I led her there and didn't look me in the eye. Her actions puzzled me, and I wondered if she really did leave because I had done something to make her hate me. That thought soured my mood.

We kept a respectful distance as I twirled her around the dance floor. Bella continued to ignore me, and eventually I had had enough. She couldn't escape and it was the perfect chance to get some answers.

"Why did you leave this morning?" I whispered in her ear.

She startled, looking me in the eye.

"I, uh, I had to get ready—wait, what are you doing here?" she said in a voice that matched my tone.

"I was invited," I said, smiling. "My mother makes me come to these things once a month. It's my way of thanking her for not disowning me."

"But I thought you were a tattoo artist, and then I see you here. Who are you?" she asked with wide eyes.

I dipped my head lower, making our foreheads touch.

"I'm just a guy who was born to parents with money that decided to find his own way," I whispered.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "Because it looks like you're trying to pretend. I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong. You're just another fake."

Without a parting glance, she left me standing on the dance floor. I couldn't move as her words replayed in my head. Pretending? I am the last person to pretend, I thought.

A group of girls standing across from me looked my way, and I could see that they were gathering the courage to ask me to dance. A grimace crossed my face—there was no way in hell I was going to give them the opportunity. Regaining my composure, I decided to leave the party. I had been rejected and there was no reason for me to stay. My mother would just have to forgive me.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

"Man, why are you hung up on this chick anyway? I mean, you're Edward fucking Masen. Just get out there and find someone to help get her out of your system," Jasper said.

When I got home, I took off the monkey suit and changed into more comfortable clothes. The next thing I did was call my boy, Jasper. I told him all about the fiasco at the gala, hoping he could give me some insight into how I had fucked things up so badly. Instead, I was beginning to regret calling him because he just wasn't getting it. Yeah, I was Edward Masen, but who the fuck cares? I was done with fucking multiple women—I only wanted Bella.

"Jazz, listen, just forget it. I don't know what I was thinking. You're right, as always," I lied into the phone.

"No problem, dude. So, I'll see ya at the club this weekend?" Jasper asked.

"Yeah, I'll be there," I said.

"All right, be cool," he said.

"Yeah, man, whatever," I replied as the phone line went dead.

I tossed the phone onto the couch cushion next to me. Damn it, why can't I get this girl out of my head? I had never had so much trouble forgetting someone before, not even with Gianna. That bitch walking out on me was nothing compared to the level of hurt I was experiencing over Bella's rejection.

I picked up my guitar, which was lying on the floor next to me, and began strumming a random tune. Music always helped me get my thoughts in order, clearing my head of the junk and making it possible to focus. As the beginning riffs of D'yer Mak'er filled the apartment, I closed my eyes and saw her face. Flashes of our time together played out like a movie.

Her laugh

Questioning the way I presented myself at the gala

Her body beneath me as we brought each other pleasure

Inking her skin with a phrase that said so much about her character

"Fuck!" I called out to the empty room. I hit a sour note and set the guitar down. I put my head in my hands, gripping my hair tightly. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened to me, and I didn't know how to fix it.

I was in love with Bella Swan, and she thought I was like all the rest of the guys in our social circle.

Fucking pond scum

It was just my luck. I finally found a girl that wasn't a sluttytante, and I couldn't have her. Or could I? A plan began forming in my head, giving me hope. I hadn't done this shit since I was in high school and not even Gianna knew about it. It was the first way I rebelled against my parents, and I was hoping it would also be the way I won Bella's affections.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

I looked around the corner again, praying to whatever deity existed that I wouldn't be caught. That was all I needed, a night in jail and having to face Jasper's comments about me being pussy whipped. When I didn't see anyone, I went back to the wall I was standing in front of just seconds before. Raising the paint can in my hand, I pushed the nozzle and went back to tagging the wall.

The colors were beginning to take shape, revealing the object of my work. Her face stared back at me, and I smiled. I didn't know if she would appreciate the mural I was creating in her honor, but it was the only way I could think of to let Bella know I loved her.

I made sure I captured her large, brown doe eyes and the glint they carried, her full lips, the luscious brown hair, and that beautiful blush. God, I was a fucking pussy, but I was starting to not to care. If this got me the girl, then I'd create as many murals as possible, and wear pink while doing it.

It took me two hours to get it all right, and I was satisfied with the finished product. Somehow, that one display didn't seem like enough. I mean, it was one representation on one building in a city with millions. Besides, it was a middle class neighborhood and there was no guarantee she would ever see it. I huffed as I picked up the different colors of spray paint. It was becoming clear that this was not big enough. I vowed then and there to tag as many buildings as I could to get Bella's attention.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

"The Swans are beside themselves," my mother revealed. "Whoever is doing this has no class. I don't know what would possess someone to paint so many murals of Isabella Swan. I told Renee, her mother, that she needs to check into security for her daughter. Some sick person has it out for her, and it would be a shame for something to happen to that poor girl."

I smiled as I listened to my mother's tirade over the phone, knowing damn good and well I was the sick person she was referring to. She would blow a gasket if she found out that I had spent the last few nights giving greater New York a facelift. There were buildings in various parts of the city that were adorned with her likeness. Hell, this morning, I saw an article in the Times depicting these random acts of vandalism a tragedy. I couldn't understand how painting her beautiful face was a fucking tragedy and that her picture was going to destroy the city's image. Yeah, right.

My mother babbled on and on about my secret grand gesture for Bella. There were a few times that I wanted to burst out laughing, but I held it in. It would only bring unwanted attention from her and not the person I was wanted it from.

"Mom," I began. "I know this is considered a scandal within the garden club, but what does Ms. Swan say?"

"Well, according to Mrs. Swan, Isabella's not saying much on the subject. Apparently, it doesn't scare her. Can you believe it? Some psycho might be after her, and she's not even worried."

Oh, that was good news. A sliver of hope shined through, making me think that Bella knew the murals were mine and liked them. Then again, why hadn't I heard from her? Surely, if she knew it was me, she would have tried to contact me. My mood shifted and doubt found its way back in.

"And to think—" my mother began.

I cut her off. I had had enough of the high society gossip, and just wanted to crawl into bed and sulk.

"Look, I gotta go. I'm late for a meeting, so I'll talk to you soon, okay?" I asked, hoping she'd take a hint.

"Edward," she said.

"No, Mom, seriously, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, and I love you."

"All right, Edward. I love you too," she said.

I snapped my phone shut, not sure what to think of the conversation. I'd been thrilled when she called and hoped I could glean some information about Bella's reaction to my graffiti. Instead, I was left with more doubts than before. Fuck, trying to woo a woman was hard work.

-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-YGMH-

This is a stupid idea. No, scratch that. It's the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. 

I had decided to come and check on one of my creations, leaving myself open to getting caught. I never, even when I did this as a teenager, came back to the scene of the crime. Yet, something had drawn me to this particular one, and I was staring at seven digits that had been added to the bottom. Seven digits that, the way they was formatted, represented a phone number. Any idiot wanting to play a joke, or get some sort of attention, could have written it down. I should have been smarter, knowing it could be the number of a cop. Still, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number. I was never going to know unless I tried.

Someone picked up on the first ring, and I immediately recognized the voice on the other end. At that moment, I took back everything I'd ever thought about Karma or the universe, because I had gotten my chance. It was Bella that had answered the call.

"Who is this?" Bella asked in a shaky voice.

I smiled. "Bella, its Edward. Do you remember me from the gala the other night? Or, if that's not your favorite memory, how about when I gave you the tattoo that's on your hip? The one that says Alis aquilae."

She gasped, making my heart swell.

"Edward? Is that really you?" she asked.

"The one and only," I replied.

"So, how did you get my number?"

"I, uh." I paused and took a deep breath. It was now or never, and the time had come to lay everything on the line. Either she would love my grand gesture, or she would laugh in my face. I steeled myself for her rejection and said a silent prayer for a positive reaction.

"I'm the one who painted the murals, Bella. When you left me that night, it really made me rethink how I'd gone about things. For a moment at the party, I was afraid you were one of those sluttytantes, and I'm sorry for that."

"Sluttytantes?" Bella questioned.

"What I call the plastic debutantes that attend those galas—wait a minute. That's not important right now. What is important is that it got me thinking about things, and I realized something. I let you go that night, and I shouldn't have. You are the most intriguing woman I've ever met, and I can't get you out of my head," I paused, waiting to hear her reaction. When there was none, I continued.

"Listen, I'm not good with this mushy shit, so I'm going to get straight to the point. You've bewitched me, and captured me with your…well, everything. What I'm trying to say is—fuck it. I love you, okay? I've never felt this way before, and I want to be with you."

I closed my eyes and waited for the words I knew that would come. She'd say that she was sorry, but she didn't feel that way about me. I would go back to my life and feel like something was missing. Yeah, I'd try to find someone else, but after I'd had a taste of what this love thing was, I knew that it'd never be the same. I'd want Bella Swan until the day I died.

"Edward, are you still there?" Bella asked.

"Huh? Yeah?"

She chuckled, making me open my eyes. I was confused. Was what I'd said really that funny?

"So, are you going to come over, or what?"

My heart stopped, stuttered, and then picked up the beat in double time. The girl I had been dreaming of, pining for, and obsessing over had just asked me to come over. I did a fist pump as I asked for her address.

After she gave it to me, I flagged down the first cab I saw. Luck was on my side, because it stopped, and I was on my way. The ride took twenty minutes, but I wasn't mad. I was riding high on the fact that, very soon, I would be seeing Bella again. My brow creased when I realized that I hadn't heard what she'd said about my declaration of love. Did she feel the same way? Or did she want to tell me to go to hell in person? Well, it was too late at the moment. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing her one more time.

When I arrived, I found her apartment easily. It was the first one after I exited the elevator. I knocked on the door with my head down because I didn't think I could take it if she looked at me with disgust when she opened the door. Knocking again, I waited for my fate.

I heard her call out, so I took a step back. The door opened, revealing the tops of her feet. Aw, damn—even her feet were beautiful. I was in so much trouble, and this girl was going to break me.

She bent down to look at my face and all I saw was kindness, so I looked up. Bella smiled, waved me inside, and then turned back into the room. I followed, pulling off my jacket. It was just like I expected, quaint and cozy. She stood there, looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked with a smile.

"My dad is so mad," she said with an answering grin. "He threatened to send me to Europe to wait until this all blew over. I refused, hoping that you were the one painting the murals."

Bella pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, taunting me. I was shocked with her confession. Things had turned out better than I could have ever hoped.

"So, why didn't you find me then?" I asked.

"Well," she said as a blush crept across her cheeks. "I couldn't remember which apartment building was yours, so I decided the next best thing would be to put my number on one of them, hoping you'd call me."

"And if it wasn't me doing it?" I questioned.

She giggled. "I was going to pretend they called a Chinese restaurant. I had even practiced the voice."

A loud laugh escaped me. This girl was too much, and so very perfect. I wanted to be sure, though, that we were on the same page.

"I never got an answer from you," I pointed out.

"For what?" she asked.

"You never said anything when I told you I loved you."

There. I had put everything into her court. If she was going to reject me, I wanted to get it over with so I could begin living my lonely existence.

A smug smile formed on her lips. "Yes I did. You never said anything back."

I was confused, and it showed in my facial expression. She walked over to me and rose up on her tip toes, placing a kiss on my lips. Bella released my mouth from the kiss and my head followed her, claiming her mouth again. The kiss started out chaste but quickly turned heated. When I ran my tongue over her bottom lip, her mouth opened and I took advantage.

My hands grabbed her sides and pulled her close. I wanted to feel her against me because it had been way too long. Her mouth broke from mine.

"I love you," she said. "I just wanted you to be clear on that."

I leaned down and kissed her again with renewed force. Bella felt the same way I did, and I was thrilled.

She began tugging at my clothes, signaling she wanted them off. I wasn't going to deny her the pleasure, or well, anything ever again. I made quick work of my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt. When I looked back at her, she was completely naked. I almost fell over—I was not expecting her to get undressed so quick.

"God you're beautiful," I whispered and then kissed her again.

"Are we really going to do this?" I asked, wanting to be sure before I took things too far. She tugged my boxers down, giving me my answer. Her warm hand wrapped around my girth while I fished a condom out of the pocket of my pants. She was pleasuring me expertly, but she had to stop or it would all end before it got started. I pulled her hand away, kissing it and reassuring her that I wanted her, instead of her hand. She smiled, watching me place the condom on myself.

I placed my hands on her face, pulling her into a kiss and backing us toward the couch. I had learned my lesson from the last time, so I kept my eyes open so I could see where I was going. Once we reached it, I gently laid her down and crawled on top of her.

I pulled out all of my best moves, wanting to drive her crazy. It didn't last long, though. She demanded I "get to it" and I complied, silently thanking her because I didn't know how much more foreplay I could take.

I ran my finger down her slit, checking to see if she was ready for me. She was drenched, and my cock jumped, remembering being inside her. She parted her legs, and I entered her tight space, moaning the entire time. Oh God, I knew that I'd never get enough of her, and I would have done anything to be granted an all access pass to her pussy. I began thrusting slowly, wanting to relish in the feeling. Bella grabbed my shoulders, using them as leverage, and met my pace. I placed my mouth on her neck and sucked, trying to keep from shouting out. I didn't know if she was into that kind of thing, and I didn't want to scare her off.

Bella grunted and groaned as I quickened my pace. I was nearing the end, but I wanted her to go first. I licked the spot behind her ear, pulled her nipple gently with one hand, and began circling her clit with the other. She threw her head back, and a facial expression that could only be described as pure pleasure erupted on her face. Bingo! I had just found the magic combination to make this girl cum, and I was going to save that information for a later date. I began thrusting wildly, unbelievably turned on by her cum face and her pussy squeezing my cock.

"Mother fuck!" I called out as my orgasm slammed into me, sending me into outer space. I began babbling, talking in tongues, and I think I might have seen Jesus, too. Either that or a hippie.

When I came down, Bella was still beneath me, smiling. I leaned down, pecked her lips, and asked her what she was smiling about.

"You," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"So, my pussy," she said, blushing at the word pussy, "is the alpha, omega, and is going to kill you?"

Son of a bitch. I really need a gag when I fucked.

"I, uh, I," I stammered, completely embarrassed.

"Oh, it's okay," she assured me. "You're pretty great yourself."

Damn, how did she make me feel like nothing mattered but what she thought?

"You know," I said as I pecked her lips. "We could find out how great I am if we were able to do this all the time."

"Why, Edward, whatever do you mean?" Bella asked coyly, batting her eyelashes.

I gulped. "Be my girlfriend," I said, and a huge grin spreading across her face.

"On one condition," she stated.

I waited, praying she wasn't going to kill my hopes.

"I'll be your girlfriend, if you agree that we both need to stop pretending. I want to be real with you."

My heart filled with love for this girl because she got it.

"Deal," I promised.


End file.
